There was a green coffee mug on his coffee table. Half-filled with day old coffee. It was Greg's coffee mug that he'd brought over one day and never taken home. It had been there on the table yesterday, and it was still there today. Nick had asked Greg, on more than one occasion, to deposit it in the sink when he was finished drinking out of it. He didn't even have to wash it, just put it in the sink. Greg always assured him he would, and then Nick would forget about it, and later, he'd find the damn thing right where Greg had last been while drinking out of it.
Sometimes Nick would find it on the dresser in the bedroom. Sometimes he'd find it on the counter in the bathroom. Once he even found it in the shower, on one of the shelves right next to the shampoo, and Nick was sure that had to have been a joke just to aggravate him, although he wouldn't put it past Greg to drink coffee in the shower. Worse was when Greg would leave it on the kitchen counter right next to the fucking sink. And he was positive that was a joke, albeit an infuriating one.
Nick didn't like messes. He liked organization. He liked tidiness. He kept his field kit neat, he kept his car free of debris, and he kept his home clean. He didn't like messes. And he certainly didn't like coffee ring stains on his coffee table. Nick chewed on his lip as he scrubbed at the stain with a paper towel damp with glass cleanser. Turned to throw it into the trash and take the mug into the kitchen. Noticed sneakers haphazardly lying by the door, a messenger bag in the hall. Sighed at the sight of a damp towel hanging over the desk chair and remembered at that moment why he had never considered a roommate, even if it would help with the mortgage.
After washing the green coffee mug and placing it in the drying rack, he grabbed the damp towel off of the chair and tossed it over his shoulder, catching the scent of Greg's mint shower gel. Pressed the fabric to his nose and inhaled, conjuring images of tangled limbs and searching fingers and the sounds of heavy breathing and oh, Nicky murmured so softly into his ear. He hung the towel in the bathroom, before turning and eyeing the toothbrush beside his. Right next to lemon scented hair product, some kind of moisturizer, and an exfoliating face wash.
The irony was not lost on Nick that his dry cleaner had lost several of his clothes, and yet here he was accumulating all of these new things that didn't belong to him. When had all of these things gotten here? He was sure it had only been a few weeks since he and Greg had started doing whatever it was they were doing. Dating, he supposed, although he wasn't sure if he would really call it that. They had sex. A lot of sex. A lot of hot, hot sex. There were times coming back to Greg's apartment or Nick's house after shift that they'd barely had the door closed behind them before they were all over each other, desperately pulling at clothes and kissing feverishly in the hall.
But not only that. They ate most of their meals together; even at work, he'd find himself on his break with Greg, sneaking away to the rooftop to share takeout. On their seldom days off together, they'd find something to do, whether it was fishing out at Lake Mead or hiking in the mountains. Sometimes, they would just lay around on the couch and watch television in their pajamas and not move all day, and sometimes, those were Nick's favorite times. To just lay there with Greg and listen to him breathe, feel his warm skin against his side, inhale the scent of his hair, and just be.
Okay. So he supposed he'd call it dating.
It was terrifying, the idea of having someone so intertwined in his everyday life. Nick was a private person. He liked the quiet and he liked his tidy home and he liked being able to watch what he wanted on television without having to argue for twenty minutes about why he should be able to watch a documentary about the migratory pattern of birds only to inevitably lose to Dazed and Confused because Greg had an unhealthy obsession with Matthew McConaughey.
Tonight, the first night in nearly four weeks, he was alone in his home and not expecting Greg to come over. Was not going to Greg's apartment. Nick had worked the night before, Greg had had off. They hadn't made any plans or discussed any rendezvous, which they usually did in passing at work or when they bid their farewells at one of their homes. Somehow, it just hadn't been mentioned, and now Nick was alone. In his home. Not expecting Greg. Not going to Greg's apartment.
So he was alone. Finally. Thankfully. He laid in his bed, sighing heavily as he stretched his arms and legs wide, reveling in the expanse of his pillow top mattress and soft down comforter. Four pillows all to himself, instead of the just one he usually got when Greg was there. God only knew what Greg needed the third pillow for, why couldn't Nick have it? Didn't matter now, Nick had all four pillows. All four. All to himself.
Nick opened one eye and looked at the clock. It was ten in the morning. Greg had gone out with his friends last night to some trendy new bar. He was probably sleeping after partying all night. Unlike Nick, who was instead lying here thinking about Greg sleeping instead of trying to do it himself. He just needed to relax, and not think about anything. Especially Greg.
He considered jerking off, just to take the edge off, but then it would lead him right back to where he started: thinking about Greg, which is what he was not supposed to be doing. He was supposed to be sleeping. Sleep. He could do this. Closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. Waited. Waited.
Nothing. He groaned in frustration, about to give in, his hand snaking down between his legs when there was a knock on his door. Felt his heart race just a little bit, felt a heat rise into his cheeks and his breath coming a little bit faster. Swung his legs over the side of the bed and rushed to the front of the house without even grabbing his robe. Pulled open the door with a flourish before he realized what he must look like, some desperate love struck teenager.
"Hey," Nick said with a nod, leaning in the door frame casually, wearing just his boxer-briefs and trying not to appear flustered and out of breath.
Greg stood with a puzzled expression, tried not to smile. Failed. "Hey. You, uh...in the middle of something?"
"No, no, just...I was sleeping," Nick lied, stepping aside so Greg could enter.
"Oh, sorry," Greg apologized, as he shrugged out of his jacket. "I crashed at my friend's place last night. Had to stop by my place this morning and grab a shower and a change of clothes." He was poised to throw his jacket onto the couch but stood frozen, looking at Nick with uncertainty. "It's okay that I came by, right? I mean, I know we didn't make any plans, but I just – I thought – Should I have called first?"
Nick took the jacket out of Greg's hands and hung it up on the rack in the entryway, shrugging nonchalantly as he wondered if Greg's friend was a male or female. "It's fine. I thought you were coming over anyway."
"Cool," Greg breathed, smiling with relief. He sauntered over to Nick, running his hands up the muscles of Nick's abdomen, his chest, shoulders, down his arms and back again. He whistled appreciatively. "God, you're so hot. I don't know how I got so lucky."
Nick grinned sheepishly, flattered. "You're not so bad yourself. Still don't know why you hide it under all these button down shirts and baggy jeans." He indicated the top button of Greg's shirt before beginning to unbutton it. "You even button this one like some Catholic schoolgirl."
"I don't have the chest to leave seventy-five percent of my shirt open like Warrick does. I don't even know how he gets away with that. Sometimes I can see his nipples," Greg said, his teeth scraping against Nick's collarbone, eliciting a hiss from the older man. "I do have the legs for a Catholic schoolgirl's skirt, though."
And that shouldn't have been such an intriguing thought. Nick should've just laughed, because it was a joke. But the image of bending Greg over in a skirt, sliding his hands up and under the hem, hiking it up his thighs, revealing the creamy pale skin of his perfect ass, and shoving his cock hard into that tight, velvety heat until Greg squealed like a school girl –
"You just thought about it, didn't you?" Greg asked, chuckling softly into Nick's neck.
"No," Nick lied, for the second or third time that morning, he was losing track. Greg clicked his tongue with distaste as Nick pushed the young man's shirt off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. "Maybe."
"Look at you," Greg said, impressed as he hooked one finger in the waistband of Nick's underwear and tugged him toward the direction of the bedroom. "I knew the minute I heard all that dirty talk you couldn't be that vanilla."
"I don't talk dirty," Nick said, catching Greg's wrist in his hand and pulling him back and into Nick's chest roughly. He growled low in his throat. "I just give you fair warning."
Greg smirked. "Oh, yeah? What am I in for?"
"I'm going to fuck you," Nick stated, slipping his hands on either side of Greg's face. Tipped the other man's head back and brushed his lips lightly against his throat, feeling his pulse jump beneath them. Trailed the tip of his tongue across Greg's jaw. Nibbled on Greg's earlobe, stuck his tongue in his ear. Heard a sharp exhalation of air as Greg's hands curled around Nick's biceps tighter. "Nice and slow. Take my time. But you'll have to ask nicely first."
"You can't..." Greg began, but faltered as Nick palmed Greg's growing erection beneath his jeans. "You can't resist this body."
"I'll bet dinner you'll be begging me to give it to you by the time I'm done with you."
Nick smiled into Greg's shoulder, said nothing as he began to unbuckle Greg's belt and push his jeans down slim hips. Greg toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks as Nick mouthed his way down Greg's smooth chest. He dropped to his knees in front of Greg in the hallway, felt Greg's hands grip his shoulders, steadying himself as a shudder visibly coursed through his body.
Greg was still wearing his boxers. Nick pressed his hot mouth against Greg's firm hardness, dampening the fabric barrier separating his lips from skin. Ran his hands up the back of Greg's thighs, cupped Greg's ass and pressed his fingers into the crease, right against Greg's most secret entrance. Moved his mouth to Greg's balls, teeth scraping ever so gently over the fabric. Looked up into irises so dark with desire they were almost black. Greg was clenching his jaw hard, breathing raggedly as he fought to maintain his composure. Nick smirked. This was going to be way too easy.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Greg's boxers, pulling them down long legs that seemed to go on for miles. Greg's hard cock right in front of him, but Nick didn't touch it. Ran his hands back up Greg's legs, gripped the back of his thighs as he nuzzled his face into the smooth skin of Greg's hip. Ghosted hot breath across Greg's dick, his tongue tracing idle patterns on his waist, his thigh, so close but not close enough. He looked up again. Greg's eyes were closed, face flushed.
Abruptly, Nick stood. Greg's eyes flew open, a sharp gasp escaping his lips at the sudden lack of contact. Nick stepped around him, trailing his hand down Greg's chest, gripped his hard cock and tugged in the direction of the bedroom only once before letting go.
"Coming?" Nick asked, and Greg turned to follow but he must've forgotten his boxers were still around his ankles because Nick heard him stumble clumsily to his knees in the hallway behind him. He bit back a smile as Greg quickly recovered and sprang to his feet. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," Greg said hastily, before clearing his throat. He indicated for Nick to continue with a wave of his hand. "After you."
Nick moved to the bed, stripping off his boxer-briefs before sitting down. He captured Greg's waist in his hands, pulling him on top; captured those lips in a heated kiss, gently urging Greg's mouth open with his tongue. Felt Greg's hips thrusting against his, Greg's hardness sliding against his own, gasped into Greg's mouth, and then he felt a smile against his own lips.
"Maybe you'll be the one begging for me," Greg murmured, his eyes alight with mischief.
"Not today," Nick promised, rolling their bodies so that Greg was pinned beneath him. Circled Greg's wrists with his hands and raised them above his head. Pushed Greg's legs apart with his own and angled his hips, the tip of his cockhead nudging teasingly at Greg's hole. The young man's head tipped back and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, evenly, his chest shuddering with the effort. "Something you want to say?"
Greg opened his eyes, staring at him defiantly. Shook his head tersely.
"We'll see about that."
He released Greg's wrists and stood from the bed, opening his closet door and retrieving a necktie. Turned back to the bed and heard Greg's breath catch. The young man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and Nick smiled at the sight of such a nervous Greg lying in his bed. Wordlessly, he climbed back on top of Greg, catching his wrists and encircling them with the fabric. Tugged the end of the tie, and they shifted until Greg was lying on his back and stretched long, and then Nick tied the other end to the headboard securely.
Nick sat back, straddling Greg's thighs, his eyes traveling over the length of Greg's body, all long lines and smooth skin. Ran his hands appreciatively down Greg's arms, his chest, his belly. Felt Greg's body responding to him, quivering beneath his touch. Rested his hands on Greg's hips, his thumbs brushing over the bones of his pelvis.
"This is a good look for you," Nick said, nodding.
Greg smirked. "Got me. Now what are you going to with me?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Nick reached for the nightstand drawer and grabbed the lubricant and a condom. Watched as Greg closed his eyes while he nudged Greg's legs apart and settled down between them, pushing his thighs back and exposing everything the young man had to offer. Slicked his fingers up with lubricant and circled Greg's entrance, his finger just pushing at Greg's hole but not breaching the tight ring of muscle. Not yet.
He continued to rub against Greg's asshole as he trailed his tongue up the length of Greg's cock, steel encased in velvet. Greg hissed at the contact, gasped as Nick's warm mouth wrapped around the head, his tongue circling the ridge and flicking over the sensitive underside. With his free hand, Nick palmed Greg's balls, tugging and massaging gently. Wouldn't take Greg's cock further into his mouth, only teasing the head, fingers still teasing his hole. Greg writhed beneath him, trying to push down on Nick's fingers but his binds would not allow him to move further down the bed; tried to push up into that mouth but each time Nick would back off.
"Nick..." Greg ground out through clenched teeth, face contorted in frustration, cheeks flushed.
"What?" Nick asked, rubbing his cheek up and down the length of Greg's erection. He pressed his lips against the hard flesh as he spoke. "Tell me what you want."
Greg groaned. "I don't...I don't want anything."
Stubborn, Nick thought, and then sat back, abruptly removing himself from Greg's body. Greg cried out in surprise, then clamped his mouth shut. So, so stubborn. Nick only smiled innocently, shrugging casually.
"Okay," was all he said, and then he was climbing off of the bed and leaving the room. He nearly laughed at the expression of shock etched across Greg's face, at the way he frantically began to pull at his binds.
"Wait!" Greg cried, his voice breaking. Nick paused in the doorway. "You can't...you can't leave me like this!"
"Sorry, I didn't hear you," Nick said, turning his ear towards the man tied to his bed, sporting what appeared to be a painfully hard erection. "I thought I heard something that sounded like begging."
"I can't...I didn't..." Greg stammered, his muscles straining against the tie as he tugged fruitlessly. He finally stopped, resigning himself to his fate, and sighed as he dropped his head back in defeat. "Please."
"Please what?" Nick asked, climbing between Greg's legs, reaching for the condom, his own painfully hard erection indicating he really didn't have it in him to continue teasing Greg or taking anything nice and slow.
"Please fuck me, Nicky" Greg said, breathlessly, desperately, and the words continued to rush out of him. "Please, Nick, give it to me, I want it so bad, I want you inside of me, fuck me, please, please."
"Shh," Nick soothed, leaning forward to silence that mouth with his own. He slicked himself up with lube, pressing gently against Greg's hole, waiting for him to adjust to the intrusion before pushing forward. Felt Greg opening for him, inviting him inside, and Nick's cock was encased with tight heat. "God, you're so tight."
"Nicky," Greg sighed, face contorting slightly as he accepted Nick's large girth into his body. And then his features relaxed and he let out a long, low moan that almost sounded like relieved, hysterical laughter. "Love your big hard cock inside of me."
"Love to be inside you," Nick stated, and it was true. Yes, there had been times where their roles were reversed, but there was nothing Nick loved move than entering his lover, claiming him, possessing him and shooting his seed deep inside of that hot, velvety channel. He had never before felt so connected to someone while doing this, conscious of Greg's every emotion, hyper-aware of his pain and pleasure. Wanting it to feel good, dying to impress, begging to please. His heart fluttered at the sight of Greg's face twisting in rapture, his chest tightened at the sounds uttered so softly into his ear. And as Greg came hard between their bodies, as Nick felt himself topple into the abyss of ecstasy, he wondered if it would ever stop feeling this way, and he surely hoped not.
"Must've been some night out for you to crash at your friend's, huh?" Nick asked innocently, pouring Greg another cup of coffee as they sat in the kitchen, slowly waking up before their shifts started.
Greg's pursed his lips once, twice, before speaking. "It was okay."
"Have I met this friend?" Nick asked, his back turning towards Greg as he faced the sink, unable to stand the look of self-satisfaction and amusement written all over Greg's face.
"You haven't met any of my friends."
"Right," Nick conceded. "Just, you know...want to make sure he – or she – is a good friend. Someone you can trust."
"I trust all my friends."
Nick dared to glance over his shoulder, turning his head sharply. Greg had his chin propped up on his fist, smiling like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Nick rolled his eyes, turning back to the sink, busying himself with rinsing out the coffee pot. He wasn't going to ask, because it wasn't really his business, was it? They hadn't discussed exclusivity, because Nick wasn't sure if he was ready to have that conversation, and Greg hadn't mentioned the topic anyway. But they spent all of their time together, ate together, slept together. Those things had to mean something, right? It should just be assumed, shouldn't it, that they shouldn't be doing those types of things with other people?
Nick scrubbed furiously, the thought of someone else claiming Greg's body causing him to nearly rub a hole right through the glass coffee pot until he felt arms encircling his waist and a chin on his shoulder, and he relaxed.
"You're cute when you're all worked up," Greg said softly, and Nick turned to face him with a blush creeping into his cheeks. "He's just a friend. A straight friend that lives with his wife."
"Sorry," Nick breathed quickly, shaking his head. "I'm not – I'm not worried."
"Yes, you are," Greg stated, smiling. "But I like it." Gently, their lips met. Greg winked before moving back to the breakfast bar to resume drinking his coffee, and then a troubling look darkened his features. "There was something though."
"What's that?" Nick asked, pulling out some cereal from the cabinet, pretending not to worry.
"There was this guy at the bar," Greg said, brow furrowed. He almost appeared uncomfortable, giving Nick pause. "He was like...really weird."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Greg admitted, shrugging. "He was just...I think he was hitting on me, but he was kind of acting like he knew me from somewhere. I don't know, he was just weird."
"What did he look like?" Nick asked, not because he wanted to know if he was good-looking. He was concerned at Greg's reaction to this man, almost asking as if he were speaking to a victim at work, wanting a description of the suspect.
"He had these really thick glasses. Kind of short, dark hair."
"He didn't try anything, did he?" Nick asked, gripping the cereal box hard.
"No, no," Greg promptly assured him, shaking his head. "He was nice, I guess."
Greg was suddenly hesitant. Scoffed as if reconsidering, shaking his head dismissively.
"What?" Nick asked.
He laughed then, nervously. "He said his name was Nick. Weird, right? What a coincidence."
Nick frowned. He didn't believe in coincidences.
To be continued.